Fifty Words For Snow
by lifelesslyndsey
Summary: Denial was a two-faced friend, always ready to stab you in the back. Bella learned that the hard way. (Pairing to be revealed - No OC MC)
1. Chapter 1

This story was written for the Tricky Ravens Author Auction! A lovely lady by the name of Conny purchased yours truly. I won't tell you her prompt, as it gives a lot away for the story. What was suppose to be a one-shot quickly became a full blown story! Expect prompt, steady updating until the finish, as 70% of the story is fully complete.

Takes place after New Moon. It's kind of a more-to-be-revealed story. So things might seem confusing now but...in the words of Belt from the Croods..._DUN DUN DUNNNN._

*50*

The blur of white came out of nowhere, streaking across the road faster than her eyes could perceive. For a moment, her mind screamed vampire, but the sick thump of her grill meeting flesh spoke of a living, breathing thing.

She'd barely clipped the animal, but it was enough to send the Tahoe into a tailspin. The truck caught the edge of the road, slipping down into the steep drain ditch before tipping over. Bella was slammed against the driver's side door, window shattering beneath her shoulder. She sucked in a sharp breath as she heard a bone snap, pain racing up her forearm.

With her good arm, she cut the engine. The truck was practically inverted on its side, and wedged deep in the ditch. Her cell was useless this far out, so she grabbed the CB radio off the dash instead. She'd call in for aid before climbing out.

"This is Officer Swan, requesting aid." She released the button, finding relief in the white noise.

"What is your position, Officer Swan?" Dispatch asked.

"I'm out on Old 99. Just past mile marker 63. I crashed my truck." She left out that she was sure her arm was broken to avoid the cavalry of police cars, ambulances, and small town gossip. "Tipped it into the ditch.." Outside, something cracked, and Bella felt the bottom of her stomach drop out as the truck began to slide.

"Officer Swan?" Dispatch crackled, but Bella had already dropped the CB, as she scrambled to unbuckle herself. "Officer Swan, are you there?

It was all in vain. Another branch snapped, and Bella barely had half a mind to buckle herself back up before the truck began to tip. She tucked her broken arm against her chest, and covering her head with the other. The vehicle began to roll, tossing her round and round as it descended the hill, tearing through the young sapling trees. She knew it would be only a matter a time before the trees grew thicker, and the truck would-

BAM.

Everything hurt. Her hair hurt. It was like the worst hangover in the world. It was worse than being thrown around by vampires, or jumping off cliffs. When the Tahoe finally stopped, it did so upside down and violently abrupt. Blind with pain, Bella fumbled with her seat belt, falling head-first into a graceless heap against the roof of the truck. She struggled with the door, weak-fingered and blurry-eyed, but the world turned black before she could climb out.

When she opened her eyes, everything was sideways, and moving. It took her a moment to realize she was being dragged. By something large, and distinctly not human. She panicked, kicking her feet and flailing, but the beast never wavered, its massive jaws clamped tight over the shoulder of her coat. Bella cried out, as her broken arm was jostled, but the sound was drowned out by the echoing snap of a falling tree.

A falling tree falling directly onto her truck.

The beast released her as the massive pine tipped and swayed, landing on the Tahoe with a sickening crunch. The poor, pathetic metal stood no chance against the pine, and crumpled like an eggshell.

Horrified. Shocked. Numb. Bella tipped her head back, and looked up into the eyes of a...of a...

"Holy Shit."

Werewolves. Werewolves in Pleasant Valley. Of course. Because it was a werewolf, no mistake about it. It's snowy fur was a fitting match for any of the local Artic white wolves, but it was easily three times the size.

It stared down at her with whiskey-brown eyes that glinted with a knowing she was far too familiar with.

"You saved me," Bella breathed, recklessly reaching out to touch the wolf. It blanched, jerking away from her hand with a sharp whine. "I'm sorry. I...I...hit you, with my truck. Are you okay?"

The wolf huffed, and licked her forehead. It burned, no doubt where she'd cracked her skull against something or other, in the tumble down the hill. Oh yeah, she thought stupidly. Werewolf healing.

"Bella?"

The voice echoed out through the trees, familiar and gruff; Witkins, her boss. "Down here!" She cried out. "I'm down here!" The wolf paced around her, tail swishing low to the ground, agitated. "Oh, no. You have to go. Don't let them see you!" It whined, and pawed at the ground. "I'm fine, thanks to you. You saved me. But, you have to go, if they see you..."

The wolf pressed its nose against her throat, huffing once, before trotting off through the trees through, tail swishing behind it. Bella pushed herself up from the muddy snow, only to find herself tipping into a tree.

"Whoa, whoa. Hold up Bella, let us come to you," Witkins called out, as he made his way down the wrecked hill. Her truck had cleared a path through the skinny sapling trees and underbrush. Absently, she wondered how they'd get it back out. Looking at the unrecognizable heap of crumpled metal that was once her park-issued vehicle, she figured it was a lost cause anyway.

Jesus. She'd been in that vehicle only a moment before the tree had fallen. If it hadn't been for the wolf, she'd have died for sure. It crept up on Bella all of a sudden, the near-death rush of panic and adrenalin. This...this felt worse, than all the times before. Worse than vampires, and werewolves. Because this? This was a human way to die, perfectly void of the supernatural. This was all her.

Blood thumped in her ear as her heart picked up speed. She felt the air in her lungs thin as she struggled to suck in more. Her vision blurred, head swimming as the world swayed around her. No...no as she swayed, good-hand grasping fruitlessly at the tree beside her in an effort to keep herself upright.

It had been a long time since she'd last had a panic attack.

The next time she woke, it was to a soft orchestra of beep-beep-drip-beep with a background of gentle swishing, and quiet murmurs. The smell of antiseptic and plastic hung heavy in the air.

A hospital. She was more than well acquainted with them.

Blinking her eyes open, Bella flinched against the fluorescent light overhead. The sun peeked through the curtains, bright and mocking. The white board on the wall told her a day had past, and the clock above it read 10:47 AM.

"Rise and shine, princess," Jerry Witkins said from the left of Bella's bed. She turned to look at him, and sucked in a sharp breath as the pain hit her. "Yeah, I bet you're feeling fuckin' peachy right now, huh?"

Bella gaped at her boss. She'd never hurt this bad, and all things considered, that was saying something. Not even breaking her leg had hurt as badly. "I've been spin-cycled."

"An appropriate comparison," Witkins snorted, and pressed the little red button on the bleeping machine, beside her. "Morphine drip. Enjoy it. Objects in motion are supposed to stay in motion. You did not."

"That tree," Bella gasped, remembering the sound it had made, before falling. Like a bone breaking. "I...Jerry. That tree almost fell on me." That tree had almost killed her. A tree, after everything else, after vampires, and repeatedly terrible decision making, a tree had nearly been her end.

"Because flipping your vehicle, and rolling down a hill wasn't enough!" Witkin's face softened. "You gave me quite the scare, Swan. Dispatch called me directly, after sending patrol out your way. They couldn't find your truck at first, but then the tree snapped and...well, I'm glad you're alright, even if you're out of commission."

Bella blanched. "Out of commission? What do you mean-"

Witkins glanced at her arm, strung up in a thick plaster cast. "You broke your arm in three places, cracked two ribs, have a concussion, not to mention a good many cuts and bruises from crawling through glass. You are out of commission until I say so. The whiplash alone would have been enough to keep you down for a week. No arguments."

Scowling, Bella deeply resented her morphine drip in that moment. She couldn't even feel properly angry! "I've had worse!"

"Yeah," he said at length. His mustache twitched, and Bella thought of her father with a pained remembrance. There was a reason she'd come to love Jerry Witkins. "I know you have, and I have a feeling you never really gave yourself a chance to rest. So I'm giving you that now. Eight weeks. After four...I'll think about letting you sit in the visitor center. You can't get on a four-wheeler busted up like that, anyhow. Enjoy the time off, Bella. Give yourself a minute to just...breathe."

Bella looked away, feeling teary eyed and stupid. Helpless. "I hate the visitor center," she grumbled, and Witkins laughed.

"I know! I figured offering it would be the best way to keep you out of my hair. Now, I'll be back to drive you home tomorrow morning, when you're discharged. Got the grunts out running my errands, and picking you up a few odds and ends for the week. Get some sleep."

She watched him go, clearing her throat as he reached the doorway. "...thanks, Wit."

Bella was bored. Her house was small, four walls, four windows, and one door of pure confinement. She was three days into her torture sentence when she just couldn't take it anymore. She shoved her bare feet into her ratty old shoes, and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door.

She just needed some fresh air. And maybe some groceries not bought by sixteen years old, because if she had to eat another hot dog, she might puke.

"Yes, mother." Bella said, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, as she struggled to balance her bag while trying to shove the key into the door of her ancient truck with the same arm. She should have never answered her phone. Witkins hadn't warned her that her mother knew about the accident! He was going to pay.

"Mom. I'm twenty-three, not five." It wasn't the rusty-red beast she had come to love in Forks, but a massive, ancient clunker nonetheless.

Bella sort of loved it. Maybe not as much as her work-issued Tahoe, but...best not to dwell on that. 'I worry!' Her mother chided, through the phone. 'I never get to see you. You never send pictures.'

"Maybe if you send me your current address?" She fumbled with the keys, making a hasty, almost-instinctual dash to grab them before they could fall in a puddle. It only resulted in them falling in the puddle anyway, as well as the majority of her groceries doing the same. Her two oranges spilled out last, rolling beneath her truck. "Crap. Look, I'll call you in the morning. Yeah. Love you too."

Crouching, Bella gathered up what hadn't made an escape, and stashed them in the now-wet plastic bag. Her ribs twinged as she bent, but the pain was bearable. Really, what was a few cracked against nearly being eaten by a nomad? With a sigh, she hung the bag from the side-view mirror. "Seriously," she muttered to herself, as she rounded the truck. "What is my life?"

Apparently, she'd parked on a slope. Snatching the first one before it could get far, she scrambled after the other orange as it rolled down the hill, picking up speed with every inch.

"You're not worth the effort," Bella cried out, because no one could hear her talking to fruit, so what did it even matter. "I don't even like oranges!" They'd been on sale.

The orange rolled to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. Like much of podunk Alaska, the middle-of-nowhere mini-mart was surrounded by trees. She had stooped down to pluck it from the snowy bush when a flash of...of something caught her eye. Twin glints, the color of whiskey, shined against the darkened forest. Brown, she told herself firmly; not red.

It did little to sooth her though, because where there were werewolves, there were vampires. "Hello?" She whispered, knowing the wolf would hear her. "Are you the one who saved me?"

A rustle of underbrush, and a huff was all the warning she got, as the wolf emerged from between two thick trees. It was the same one, with it's more-salt-than-pepper coat, but her memory had done it little justice.

The wolf was massive. Bigger even, than Sam Uley. Far too large to be mistaken for anything but a bear or a small horse. It's coat was white, speckled neatly in flecks of gray and black, just like the native Arctic Wolves. Hands held at her side, she lowered her head. "Are there more of you?" The wolf stared at her blankly, it's tail pulled low, and taught. " Is your pack nearby? Your Alpha? Are you the Alpha?"

It whined, head dipping as it dropped to it's belly. Submission, Bella realized, with a start. And if it was submitting to her, it meant it had no Alpha. A young wolf then, she decided. Probably new, and dangerous.

With little warning, it darted away, disappearing back into the thick copse of trees without so much as a yip. Bella watched it go, wordlessly.

She knew that wouldn't be the last of she saw of it.

The next morning, salad-plate sized paw prints decorated the mud around her porch. The lingering remains of dirty snow piling up at the edges of the wooden steps were yellow, where the wolf had peed.

On her house.

"Seriously?" She told her backyard, as the sun crept up over the trees. "Should I be worried? Are you marking me for a reason?"

Was he warning something off? Or simply making his presence known?

No answer came, but that was hardly surprising. Bella pulled her bathrobe closer to her body, and glared at the forest, before turning inside. She put the worry out of her head. She'd been vampire-free for years. That wasn't about to change.

Vampires aside, peeing on the house was just the tip of the iceberg, it would seem. The following morning when she opened her backdoor, Bella found a rabbit. A dead rabbit, it's neck broken neatly, with very little blood in involved. Even so, it's distressing. Dead animals were not Bella Swans thing.

Ignoring the sour feeling in her stomach, she reminded herself that she was a Forest Ranger for a reason. Morbid though it was, Bella knew better than to leave it on the porch.

"It's a gift," she muttered, as she took it by the back legs, and carried into the kitchen. "A gift." She repeated the words like a mantra, as she dressed and stripped it on her good cutting board, blood draining into the sink.

It made a good stew. When night came, she left a bowl on the porch, not bothering to leave a spoon.

The bowl was empty in the morning. That much she expected. What she hadn't expected, however, was the wolf to be there waiting, orche eyes keen and curious.

"Thank you," she muttered, haltingly. "For the...rabbit. I don't know why you left it, because honestly if we're doing gifts, I should get you something. You saved my life." Hesitating, she held her hand out, fingers wiggling in the space between them. It's stupid, because he was neither an animal, nor truly frightened but...old habits die hard.

The wolf wasted no time, pressing his nose into her palm with a chuff-chuff-chuffing noise. It licked her, sloppy wet tongue sliding from palm to elbow, and Bella tried hard not to laugh, but it tickled. On reflex, her fingers curled, scratching along his muzzle, and he melted in an instant, face pressing harder against her hand like a touch starved cat.

"Oh you like that huh?" Bella teased gruffly, scratching harder as she worked her hand up behind his ear. His back leg shook, slapping against the muddy ground. As if permission had been granted, he launched forward, pressing the bulk of his weight against her, until she was forced to stumble back against the wood of the porch. "Whoa!"

Bella realized, that beneath the fur and teeth, a naked man was laying on her. Or worse, a naked teenager. Although, as he settled his weight against her side, and nudged her hand to continue, she couldn't quite care. Even with the terrible memories it stirred, or the ache in her side that had nothing to do with cracked ribs, Bella could never forget the good she left behind in Forks.

**She missed her home, her stupid yellow kitchen, her father, her friends. Alaska was her sanctuary, but in being so, it was a reminder of what she left behind. The wolf was trouble, bringing with it all the things she knew were better left locked away, but...Bella could never resist trouble.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**. So, as you might have noticed, Bella is a forest ranger. The title is actually pretty new. I did a weirdly large amount of research to make sure this was plausible, and surprisingly, it's a totally do-able thing in the span of 5 years. Which is how long she's been gone. It's actually doable in less.

Some of you mentioned confusion. This is easily understood, because unlike a finished book, unfinished fanfic is lacking in information (until updates). You're probably wondering how she came to be in Alaska, and such. You'll know. YOU'LL KNOW WHEN I WANT YOU TO KNOW. lol.

Did I not mention who beta'd this fic in the last chapter? I DIDN'T. Lovely girl. Hates big but's. _However_, (not but), she's a lovely girl by the name of Astrid.

Also, speaking of Italics it would seem that the uploading of this story from google docs to FFnet has removed all italics. I kind of rely on them, but this will be a nice challenge to see how my writing stands on it's own, without them. Hopefully I can convey just as much context emotion, without slanty words of exclamation.

***50***

He was never very far, as far as she could tell. Bella didn't understand it, why he lingered on at the edges of her life, never approaching. He was hiding from her, thought he was being sneaky and clever, but Bella knew wolves. She knew werewolves too. The underbrush behind her house was tamped down, white fur caught in the soft pine thrush. Somedays he left more gifts; small game, like birds and squirrels. On one memorable occasion, two weeks into their thing, she found a whole turkey on her back porch, it's neck neatly broken like all the rest.

It's courting. She's not stupid. He was courting her with dead animals, which was equal parts adorable and disturbing. It was also very...very animalistic of him, in a way that brokered nothing but worry and concern.

Why wouldn't he phase?

"These are non-huntable animals you know!" She called out, from her porch, pushing away the tidal wave of concern. Non-huntable or not, she picked it up and plucked it clean in the tiny cinder-block shed out behind her cabin. She didn't want to hurt the boy's feelings, to spurn his efforts. Bella remembered what it was like to be young like that. It felt worlds away."Ugh. Don't you have parents that aren't looking for you? Go do your homework."

In town, she looked for him. Having known many, Bella thought spotting the werewolf would be easy, but it wasn't. While it might not be a sprawling urbana, Pleasant Valley was diverse. Bella wasn't the only one to settle down in the tiny North Alaskan town. Witkin's himself moved from Arkansas, some twenty years ago, and her closest neighbors (an easy five mile drive east), settled down a year after her, having moved from Maine.

There were a few others who hailed from Washington as well, but the Polinski's didn't seem to fit the bill, and Mr. and Mrs. Asher were well into their sixties. There wasn't any no point in limiting herself to Washington natives of course. People move, have babies, then the babies move. The Quileute line could very well be spread out across the continent.

Worst though, was that the native's of Pleasant weren't all that dissimilar to those of the Quileute. Their skin shone a deep, rich copper, and their hair fell in thick, black waves. Their faces never looked so similar, until Bella found herself looking. Once willfully blind, her eyes were now wide open. She saw Jacob in Marc Adam's ( who's father ran the little grocery store) deep dimples, and Emily in Amanda Kohm's (who ran a local co-op) blinding white smile.

But what she didn't see among these people, is the wolf.

He could have been anyone. He could been no one at all.

It made her feel indisputably, inexplicably, dishearteningly lonely.

Three weeks past the accident saw Bella well-healing, and horribly antsy. The wolf had yet to show himself again, but his presence was always felt. She still couldn't figure out what kept him from speaking. He had no Alpha to tell him not too. He had no secret to keep that Bella didn't already know.

Bella swore she could feel him when he was near. It was something about the way the wind moved over her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She knew when he was there. She knew. Opening the back door, Bella didn't step outside. It was forty-something degrees out, but the wind was bitter, and biting.

Propping the door open, she returned to the little kitchen counter. "It's too cold to eat outside. You can come in if you want. Eat some of this rabbit you so kindly left." She spoke nonchalantly, hoping he'd take the hint. It was the first time she'd spoken to him since he'd approached her, for all that he was constantly there. "I've set the table for two. So, grow some legs, and come inside. There's a pair of pants on the porch."

He let out a surprised, distressed noise, and Bella turned just in time to watch him bolt across the yard, and into the trees. "Wait!" She called out, racing through the door. Her cast slams against the frame, pain ricocheting through her bones. She hissed through her teeth because shit, that hurt. It didn't slow her down of course; pain never did. Not bothering with shoes, she darted after him, feet sinking in the muddy grass.

He wasn't far, she knew he wasn't, so she slipped between the trees, determined to find him. "Why won't you let me see you?"

It was an odd chase, in that she was chasing him at all. He was...letting her. She knew because she could still see him, because she could still follow him at all. Bella raced after him at a steady pace for a good fifteen minutes, feet cold, and bones aching. He stopped at a cave of sorts, shaped into the side of a sloping hill, and covered in twisted, over-grown trees. It was well camouflaged; Bella wouldn't have even noticed it, if he hadn't lead her there.

She did not enter. Werewolf or not, this was obviously his den. Some things were sacred, and this was one of them. He emerged only a moment later, the damp, tattered remains of a...a...newspaper, tucked into his maw.

He dropped it at her feet, and nudged at her with his nose. "Alright, alright," she grumbled, shivering as the wind bit at her bare skin. Bella picked up the paper with indelicate hands, wincing as it nearly crumbles between her fingers. It was old, two years old, if the barely readable date in the corner was anything to go by. "What?" Her stomach tensed, filled with foreboding. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me. I don't..." Before she could finish, he was off again,darting back into the cave.

When he returned, it was with more papers. There was even a magazine, printed locally, and a weekly church flyer. Their dates varied by weeks, months, and years. It was clear too, by the way that they were bent, stiff and discoloured, that they had not been touched in a very long time. Their edges were torn and punctured; there was no denying the marks for anything but teeth. Wolf teeth.

With a heavy heart, Bella dropped to her knees, papers fluttering to the ground between them. She pulled him into a hug, stretching wide to wrap her arms around his thick neck. He came quite willingly, just as touch-starved as she first imagined. It made more sense now, the way he presses into her like he might not get another chance, like he can't remember the last time he'd touched human skin.

"You've been stuck like this for a long time, haven't you?" She muttered the words right into his fur, and squeezed him tightly. The wolf whined, pushing into the embrace with a shiver.

The oldest paper was dated three years and some months prior.

Three years. He'd spent three years like this. It made her want to cry, thinking about how...how lonely it must be, without a pack, without a family. Without anyone knowing the secret. She had so many questions; where were his parents? Where was his tribe? Did he know about the legends before? Did he run away from his pack? Did he-

Later that evening, when the trees have swallowed the sun, Bella dug out all the blankets she can spare from her tiny linen closet, and piled them onto the floor of the old shed. Doubling back, she stole the throw pillows off the couch, and the patio chair cushions as well.

"It's not you're den," she explained nervously, as he sniffed at the entrance. She tactfully looked away as he peed on the corner of the cinder-block building. "But you're welcome here, anytime." Kneeling down, she laid a hand over his muzzle. "I'm going to help you, okay? I promise. I'm going to help you. We'll get you back, and then we'll find your family okay? We'll make this right."

Because Bella knew what it was like to be trapped, and alone, and lost. She knew how it felt to be unable to explain, to tell the world why you're crying, why you're stuck in your fear, stuck in your skin. Bella knew what it's like, to have all the words, but no voice to speak them. To have secrets you can't spill. To have fears that can't be trusted. To find yourself utterly alone. Bella knew..

This...this felt like redemption. Just a little slice. If Bella could only help him, if she could make it right...she just wants to make something right.

**TBC**

**short chapter is short. more tomorrow though!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** Sorry the chapters are a little skimpy right now. I had to stretch out what I had to give myself a little more time to write the ending.

Also, Teen Wolf fans...there is a reference in here directly from TW, and it will make sense later. guh. teen wolf.

*50*

With all the free time in the world, Bella threw herself into her promise. She began with the Missing Persons records. Her clearance wasn't exactly FBI level, but the records were open to the public, so it hardly mattered.

It yielded very little. Or rather, it yielded too much. There was no way to narrow it down, besides 'six foot native american between the ages of 16-20, possibly a Washington native'. Bella closed her laptop with a resigned sigh. Her arm ached in it's cast, and there was an itch near her wrist she just couldn't reach. She felt miserable, physically and mentally. She hated feeling so helpless.

The day was warm-ish, calling for little more than a heavy sweater, and thick socks. The ground was damp, and muddy, but the air was crisp and clean. Bella was seated at the tiny patio table on her porch. Across her small yard, she could see the wolf, lurking between the trees of the forest. He did that a lot, preferred the shadows of the branches, to the open sun. It was probably some by-product of subconscious conditioning. He was keeping himself out of sight, and safe.

Even so, he'd been sleeping in the shed. The doors were ever-so-slightly askew, and when Bella had peeked in there, there was a new, raggedy looking blanket (that stank to high heaven). She knew without a doubt he'd pulled it from his den.

"You hungry?" It's a perfunctory question, asked more out of reflex than actual curiosity. He was a wolf; he was always hungry. She didn't feed him often, knew he caught most his meals, but the added benefit of a home-cooked (or cooked at all) dinner certainly couldn't hurt. "I'm making a brisket." She was whole-heartedly sick of crock-potted meals, but without the use of her arm, lifting anything from the oven was just out of the question.

Together, they eat on the back porch. He was...cleaner, than she expected. Didn't tear into the food like the animal he had long since been. Smiling, Bella wondered if that was for her benefit. It was a promising thought though; he'd managed to cling to some of his humanity, at least. Sam...Jake...they had both said it wasn't easy.

Clean manners aside, his fur was a stinky, matted mess. "So," she began at length, around a bit of roasted potato. "Feel free to tell me no, but...I have a hose, and you look like maybe a shower couldn't hurt. People are all about the creature-comforts, right? Dinner and a shower? Yeah, no? I'll use warm water, and my good shampoo."

The look he gave her was nothing short of baleful, with a pinch of wary-hesitation thrown into the mix. Good enough for her.

"Enough with the face, Sourwolf. You're getting a bath."

That's how they found themselves soaking wet, and covered in soap suds. She'd hooked the hose up to the kitchen sink, fed it through the window over her counter, and cranked the hot water. The air was burning cold where it touched her skin, but she couldn't find it in herself to care, not when she was laughing so hard. He was covered in white fluffy bubbles, and wasn't very pleased about it when she snapped a picture.

"Oh come on," Bella wheedled, scratching him behind the ear. "You look adorable." They made a ridiculous pair, he looking like a drowned cat (but the size of a horse), she soaked to the bones, and rosy cheeked. It was a good thing (for many, many reasons) she had no neighbors for miles on either side.

In retaliation, he shook. Shook like a dog, head to tail, spraying sudsy water everywhere. Bella sputtered, shrieking as she tried to avoid the worst of the water. But the wolf was having none of it, and wrapped himself around her like a cat until they both tumbled into a heap on the soggy ground.

It was...oddly domestic, from there on out. The wolf was there, every morning. He wandered off during the day, and though Bella was curious about what he got up too, there was just no way to ask.

When a month rolled around, she went back to work in the visitor center. It was boring, with only a trickle of tourists flittering in and out, and most only to use the restrooms or vending machines. Bella never liked the visitor center, had been thrilled when Witkins had finally transferred her out, and onto field work. It was for grunts, and Junior Rangers, of which she was neither. One or two interns linger about in the back, folding info pamphlets, and playing Angry Birds on their phones.

The sad truth was that Pleasant Valley was beautiful, stunning really, but it didn't hold the same appeal as Denali, or Fairbanks, with it's ski-slopes, national parks, and shopping centers. Bella didn't mind; thats why she loved Pleasant, actually.

She spent her time at work surfing the web for information, ideas, clues, something to help her help him...and finding little more than questionable theories, and some truly frightening fanfiction intent on highlighting the wonders of interspecies relations. Nope. Just...no.

Seriously. No.

It looked hopeless, but she wouldn't give up. She'd get him back to himself. She had too.

It felt important. Too important to let go.

"Sourwolf won't cut it. You need a name," she told him, lounging against him on the back lawn. It was chilly, but the sun was shining down, warm against her skin. The wolf huffed, and slapped her thigh with it's tail. "Well yeah, you probably already have one. But I don't know it, and calling you 'the wolf' in my head is getting tedious. What about...Sotla. It means snow." She paused, smiling. "A lot of things mean snow here. So they say." It was one of the wildest urban myths she'd come across, but the locals had taken to it's perpetuation with much mischievousness, and so Bella did too. There was a list, Fifty Words For Snow, tacked up in the visitor center, printed in soft blue Comics Sans, and framed in all it's glory.

He huffed again, opening his mouth just enough to flash a fang. Not fond of Sotla, then.

"Fine," Bella rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "How about Snow?"

There was no answering huff, so it was she came to call him Snow.

It was depressing, how little she knew when she knew so much. She knew the legends, she knew the tribe lore, but she had no answers.. She had nothing to go on, no path to take, no trail to follow. She had no idea how to help him, and every day the desire, the need to help him grew, until she was sure she'd drowned in it.

He was human, beneath the tooth and claw. She could see it in his eyes, the desperate knowing. The way his gaze lingered on human things, like her cell phone, her laptop, her hands, with a burning curiosity. She didn't want it to be all in vain, she didn't want to build him up only to fail.

Monday came dark and frigid, on the fifth week post-accident. A storm brewed on the horizon, angry and brutal. It was too early for light, barely past five in the morning. Snow was anxious, tail swishing and flicking angrily as he paced in circles on her back porch. "Whoa there, calm down." She scratched him roughly behind the ear, willing him to be still. Whatever had him tense, she could practically feel it beneath her own skin. He was on edge. He'd woken her up scratching at the door (and leaving unexplainable gouges in the cheap wood). He'd never done that before.

Her stomach clenched.

Bella recoiled instantly when her fingers comb through something sticky and cold. Stomach dropping, she stared at her red stained hand. It shimmered in a way that that screamed it's inhumanity, and smelled peppery and sweet.

It was a scent she couldn't forget, not ever, not even in death. She swayed violently, vision blurring and knees threatening to give out. Snow nosed at her stomach, whining sharply.

"How many?" She cried, dropping to her knees to look at him. "Blink. One for one, two for two-"

He blinked once, slow and firm.

She doubted he bothered to note it's eye color, not that it mattered. Not that it should matter. "Did you kill it?" The question was uttered, broken and terrified. She didn't know what she was more afraid of; that he didn't or that he did. What the hell was wrong with her?

He shook his head, a growl curling up out of his throat. Bella petted at him, hands pushing through his damp fur, regardless of the blood. He needed the comfort, and she needed...she just needed something solid to hold on to.

On her knees like she was, she could see him better. His mouth was stained red, and there was a long, deep cut across his left eye. Bella could see it struggling to heal, even as she watched. It glimmered, silvery and wet, tainted with venom.

"Stay right here." Her voice shook, even as she pulled away. The wolf whined again, louder this time, as it nipped at her red plaid sleepshirt. "Shhh. I'll be right back. I need to clean that cut, so it can heal. Venom...you don't want it getting into your bloodstream." She'd seen the effects of venom on a wolf; she wouldn't let him hurt like that.

The heart of the storm had found them, even before she left the bathroom, first-aid kit in hand. Bella threw it in a canvas bag half-hazardly, tossing in the entire contents of her fruit bowl, a pack of hotdogs, and three water bottles as well. She grabbed her hand-radio off the counter, the emergency kit from below, and pulled her thickest parka down from the peg by the door.

He'd never fit inside of her cabin. But they could both fit in the shed.

"Come on," she urged, nudging him down the porch steps. "Come on, come on." The wind roared, hard enough to send her stumbling. He was there to catch her, worried whimpers escaping his bloody mouth. "Shhh," she hushed him, curling the fingers of her casted-hand into his fur. "Shhh, come on."

Of course a vampire would choose then to come, during what was expected to be the worst storm of the year. It wasn't uncommon. Spring was brutal in north Alaska. Denali had been on the verge of flooding for weeks, and Bella didn't doubt this storm would send the waters running. Pleasant Valley wasn't prone to flooding, but the wind would do just as much damage.

Her cabin might have been a warm shield against the wind with all the comforts a human could want, but Bella knew she was safest with him, even in the eye of the storm.

Vampires, she thought bitterly, heart stuttering in her chest. Vampires in Pleasant Valley. She should have known. Because where there were wolves, there were vampires.

She should have known. And in a way, she had.

Denial was a two-faced friend, always ready to stab you in the back.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: So, this chapter has a little more meat, a little more back story. Enjoy?**

***50***

The shed was sturdy, built of solid concrete bricks, and windowless. It was a tight fit between her, him, and the old, rusty lawn mower, shoved to the back. Bella tossed her things to the floor, atop his nest of pillows and blankets. She pressed herself firmly against the wall as Snow stepped inside, and pulled the door closed firmly behind them. It latches shut with an echoing click, leaving her blanketed in darkness.

It was a fumble to find her bag again. Snow circled around twice before settling down. She stepped on his tail twice, eliciting a grumbling little growl from his chest. Her flashlight was old; a heavy and battered Mac that once belonged to Charlie. It was riddled with scratches and dents, black paint peeling at the end, but it was bright and familiar. Bella gripped it in one sweaty palm, like a weapon.

"Here," she murmured, kneeling down on her parka. He curled up against the other wall, legs tucked up tight against his body. She watched as he trembles when wipes at the unhealed wound with pre-packaged alcohol wipes. "It won't heal until the venom is cleared away. This is going to hurt," she warned, before pressing into the wound, the edges of the cottony wipe catching on the gaping flesh. Bright red blood trickled through his fur, and he whined, nose butting up against her ribs.

The fresh blood was a good sign; Bella let herself breathe, relieved. "Shhh. it's alright. Just a little more. I'm going to have to stitch it shut."

It wasn't something she's looking forward too. The sewing kit in the emergency box was just that; a simple sewing kit. The needles were sharp, but the thread was thin and coarse. She weaved it through the eye twice, doubling it up, before heaving a great, shaking sigh.

"Okay." Bella braced her casted hand against the side of his head, and swallowed. "Okay. I can do this."

It wasn't easy. His skin was thick, with no give. He didn't growl, didn't even move, as she forces it through, using the hard plaster of her cast to shove at it until it comes through the other side. The noise it made, a snapping pop, it made her stomach clench. She tied the knot off over his brow, before repeating the steps down his snout...his cheek, she assumed. If he were human.

Her hands were wet with blood by the time she finished, but her work was neat, and his trembling had ceased to a barely there shake. His entire head filled her lap, every breath warm against her stomach. He fell asleep like that, curled into her. She didn't sleep at all.

The storm felt like a living thing around her, vicious and cold as it slapped against the unyielding walls of the shed. Bella could feel the electrical charge in the air, tingling against her skin with every echoing boom of thunder. Bright bolts of lightning flashed in the thin crack in the door. It was warm though, with him against her, but warmth was the only comfort she could find.

Her mind was a tangled mess of chaos, filled with old questions, new questions, and a few budding answers. No wonder he'd been spending so much time circling around the woods behind her house. No wonder he'd kept so close. He'd been holding them back.

The blood on his face, the blood that hadn't been his own, was still fresh and wet when he'd reached her. The vampire must have been near. The idea that it had been lurking there, on the outsides of her world, without her knowing...it was terrifying. She'd let herself fall into a sense of safety. Let herself forget about the dangers in the world, even when she'd found him, a werewolf. She'd been stupid, careless.

What if it was a Cullen? What if it wasn't? Both ideas were no less terrifying than the other, and at least one of them would be true. The prospects weren't promising. Her Snow hadn't killed it; what if it came back? She knew better than most how prone to revenge a vampire could be.

Almost unconsciously, she hugged him tighter against her chest. He huffed, lifting his head to side-eye her with obvious worry.

"What if it comes back?" She voiced, with wide eyes and a too-fast heart. The edges of her vision were painted black and blurry. Panic creeped into her veins like poison.

Snow tensed, hackles rising as he curls his lips back in a quiet snarl. He'll protect her, he told telling her without a single word. She believed him, and that's what scared her most.

She couldn't help the way her breath caught, as memories crashed down, all painted red with blood and death. Nothing good came to those who protected Bella Swan.

"Are there a lot of Vampires in this area?" He shook his head, mouth still curled in a vibrating growl. "How many? Since you've phased."

He blinked three times, slowly and surely.

Three vampires in three years? Bella didn't know how to gauge that. Was it a lot? Forks had more, but Forks had more of a lot of things, so that wasn't surprising. Pleasant Valley didn't really fit the bill for any vampire looking to park or pass. It was too far inland, and far too bright. She'd always wondered about further north of Alaska, like Barrow or Denali, that lay blanketed in darkness for all winter. But spring had officially sprung in Alaska, with the sun peeking in over the horizon a little more every day, burning the night away.

But then...maybe that was it. They'd have seen just enough daylight to drive any nomads out.

Still. It made no sense to cut through the inlands. Barrow wasn't close and Denali even less so. It was a good five-hundred miles north for either. It would make more sense for a nomad to cut down the coast, where they could take cover in the ocean or trees, when the sun rose. And for a vampire, even a nomad, to step into a Wolves territory...they'd have smelled him. They'd have known, even without knowing what he was, that they were not welcome. That much was instinctual. That much, Bella knew.

So why had the vampire strayed so close?

Her mind whirled, thinking back on the way he'd scratched at her door, the way he'd curled around her frantic and searching. He'd been worried, when there shouldn't have been any reason. A passing nomad would have no cause to search her out.

But there were those who would.

Grasping at him, Bella held his head between her hands. "Did it...did it mention me by name?"

The wolf nodded, a whine curling up from his throat as he snuffled against her neck, nose buried in her hair.

"Shhh," she murmured, scratching him roughly, just the way he liked. "Shh, it's okay. It's going to be okay. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Snow grumbled, and nipped at her shirt.

"You've smelled them before." It made sense, the way he'd lingered on the outskirts at first, the way he'd marked her house. The way he'd go missing for days, but made his presence known regardless.

He'd been circling her house, never straying, always keeping watch.

For vampires.

All the times he'd run off so unexpectedly; the accident, the mini-mart, the day in her yard. Had they been close? How long had he been after them, fighting them off all on his own?

"You've done good," she told her wolf, burying her face in his fur. "So good. You know that right? So good."

He rumbled, too heavy to be a purr, but just as satisfying. Lightning flashed outside, as the wind howled, screaming its pain into the night.

Everything was clearer now, in the way only retrospect could manage. "You didn't know that I knew your secret. Not when I hit you, or when you pulled me from the truck. Not until the day you showed me your den." It had seemed odd then, why he hadn't shown her before.. Even mentioning his pack, his alpha...he was a lone wolf though. He wouldn't know that his kind had packs, and Alphas.

He probably didn't know much about his kind at all.

The warmth was familiar, and god how she'd missed it. She barely knew the wolf, didn't know the boy beneath the fur, but he still filled a hole inside of her she hadn't known was there in the first place.

"A long time ago," Bella began, as Snow sniffed at her. "I ran with a wolf pack. They were like you, they could change between man and wolf. Do you know the story, of how your kind came to be?"

He grumbled against her, shaking his head.

"Yeah," she sighed, petting his soft coat. "I didn't think so. You're not from these parts, are you? You come from somewhere special. A long time ago, a man by the name of Taha Aki lived, as a member of a Quileute tribe. He was a warrior..."

She told him all the legends she knew, which were many. Somehow, the old stories become new, tales made by her own hand, of Vampires, and werewolves, and terrible bloodshed.

"I made a mistake. I made a lot of them." Bella sighed, unfurling her knees from beneath her. With shaking hands, she packed away the emergency kit, pressing the white plastic box against the far wall. She peeled off her soaking wet house slippers, and tossed them into the corner. "I was young and stupid and fell in love with a vampire who broke my heart. At the time, it felt like nothing could ever hurt worse. I had no idea."

Grabbing her parka, Bella curled up against the wolf's stomach, tucking her toes beneath his arms. He nosed at her shins, before laying his heavy head across her legs.

She rested her good arm against his fur as she spoke. "They say then when one door closes, another opens. When Edward vanished, he left the door wide open for the nomads to return. And they did, both of them. The wolves, wolves like you, finished off Laurant with little problem. But Victoria was trickier. She was gifted; some vampires have special talents. But more than that, she was clever.

"She...she killed my father. My father and Jacobs father. Gutted them both like fish, and would have done the same to me I think. But the wolves came. They might have saved my dad and Billy too, but I was so stupid. I...ran away, because I thought...I thought if I left, the vampires would follow, and my dad and the pack would be safe. I was ready to end it, and it would have worked but my dad...he was the police Chief. He put a LAM out on my car, and called in GPS on my phone. A state trooper pulled me over, and Charlie picked me up in the cruiser. Billy was with him, God, I don't even know why. Moral support probably; they were best friends. And maybe because Billy knew the truth, even if Charlie didn't. Victoria cut us off on the 101, flipped our car into the ditch and..." Tears burned her eyes, burned trails down her cheek, and the wolf whined. "She made me watch. They didn't die slowly.

When the wolves finally made it...there was so much blood, Snow. It was everywhere. They went after Victoria...but, she'd done what she'd come for. She hurt me as badly as Edward had hurt her. She didn't care that she was going to die; she let them rip her apart. By the end of it...If I had lost any more blood, I'd have died too."

**TBC**

**A/N** also, have any of you tried the FFnet spell checker? It's a pissy little bitch about 'passive voice'. It's kind of funny.

Also, my weekend is over. It's different then yours. Will post again, Monday or Tuesday. Much love!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** This is the last of the pre-written chapters, but hopefully by the time I've posted, I'll have a bunch more written.

It should also be mentioned that the wonderful, magestical, critical, but-hating darling **Astrid** beta'd. She did a great job. She hates but's. Butts are for pooping. She alsp beta'd 10k words in one night. So. She's clearly a magical unicorn of grammar or something.

I had a bunch of stuff to put in the AN, but now I can't remember.

*50*

She didn't speak of what happened next, of the feeling of claws cutting through flesh, her blood mixing with the rest. The way Victoria's blood burned her skin where it touched. Of Jacobs softly spoken words. The timber of his quiet growl. His hands and the way they'd...no. She didn't mention the weeks spent in the special hospital in California. Missing her own father's funeral. Her own graduation. Weeks of physical therapy. The men in suits that came to explain her fathers life insurance. The cards. The flowers. Her mother. The money.

The Cullens.

"I had a scholarship for Tekunam University, a little north of here. I just...packed up as soon as I could and never looked back." She'd left in the fall, too soon according to medical advice, but...she had too. Her mother's little condo had been too stifling, the hot California air burning her lungs with every breath. Renee and Phil had been kind, far more kind. Bella felt undeserving. It hurt.

Somehow, even with the storm raging, Bella fell asleep, curled into the wolf's side. He was a furnace of heat, and soft beneath her. She had no idea how long she slept, but the storm had yet to die, so she decides it didn't matter.

It took her a moment to realize what woke her; growling. Snow's snarl vibrated through her whole body. "What is it?" She whispered, fingers gripping his fur. No answer was needed; Bella knew.

Growling, Snow pushed himself to his feet, head low to the floor and hackles raised. His shoulders were pulled tight like a coul; he was ready to spring.

She barely managed to stifle her tiny, panicked cry as the door sprang open with no real warning.

"Wait!" She cried out, grabbing Snow before he could lunge. "Wait, wait. She's not here to hurt us." The woman is unmoving, even against the hurricane winds. Her eyes are golden in the moonlight, a shimmery honey-color that spoke of a well-fed vegetarian vampire.

She smirked, canting her hip to the left as Snow frothed at the mouth, his whole body trembling with the force of his snarls. "Not you, but the beast has been no end of trouble for us these past weeks. He bit my sister Kate."

"You're on his land," Bella defended, absurdly. She was arguing with a Vampire, about a werewolf. What was her life?

Laughing, the woman rolled her eyes. "Beautiful, the Denali have had claim to these parts far longer than your wolf has even lived. We trespass nowhere."

Even if it was true, it made no sense. "Then why not come for him when he first arrived? You would have smelt him. He's lived her for years. Don't lie to me; this isn't about him. It's about me."

"Clever. They said you were clever." How such a simple sentence could confirm the worst, Bella would never understand. "My name is Tanya of the Denali. I was sent to assure you were alive. We've been attempting to make contact for many weeks now, but your...friend, has made that very difficult. Alice Cullen had a vision of you wrecking your vehicle. Then the vision went black."

Alice Cullen. She pushed back the bile that rose up in her throat just thinking the name. Alice couldn't have even spared her a visit, when she thought she might be dead? But then, that wasn't new. The Cullens had left Bella for dead years ago. "Well, as you can see I am very much alive, no thanks to them. You can happily deliver that message to the Cullens with a PS fuck you very much. That last part is important."

"So very angry." Tayna raised a single brow. "Alice warned as much."

Bella opened her mouth to reply when something slammed into the side of the shed, punching a hole through the cement. Snow howled, stepping between Bella and the wall as the cinderblocks began to fall.

"Irina!" Tanya barked, flying forward faster than Bella could see. Through the gaping chasm in the shed, she watched as Tanya grabbed the other vampire by the arm, and whipped her around like a ragdoll. "What are you doing? The Cullens said-"

"He's like the one who killed my mate," Irina seeth, eyes dark and wild. Bella was all to familiar with that look; despair. "The filthy dogs who tore my Laurent apart."

Tanya slapped Irina hard across the face, and it rang out as loud as the booming thunder. "He is not of the Quileute Tribe. He is an omega, packless and nigh feral. He did not kill your mate. Stand down, and shed no blood here, sister. Eleazar will hear of this."

Bella couldn't believe it. Was the world really so small? "Laurent came to Forks with red wolves who did kill him, did so with every right. He trespassed on protected land, and he sought to kill a human." Her. He had sought to kill her.

"Liar!" Irina lunged, hands outstretched and reaching for Bella.

What happened next was...unexpected. All things considered -werewolves, vampires, more mate-vengeance, hardly anything was unexpected. Bella watched Snow melt, fur fading away to coppery skin. He grabbed Irina by the throat with two very human hands, and hurled her across Bella's yard with a very inhuman growl.

"Take her and go," Bella ordered, though her voice was shaking. Snow stood between she and Tayna, hands clenched at his side. "Tell the Cullens whatever you want, just go."

"She attacked first." Tanya hesitated, eyes shifting to Irina. "He could have killed her. We would not have retaliated. My sister has been...unwell, since Laurent's passing. For this, a debt is owed. I shall pay it by telling you that the Cullens are coming. We told them of the wolf, and they grew...worried."

Bella felt her heart lodge in her throat. "How long do I have?" The wind tore the words away, but there was no doubt the vampire heard them.

"Three days. Alice will not have seen me telling you; she can't see you at all anymore."

With that, Tanya left, brilliant blond hair whipping in the wind behind her as she gathered her sister and disappeared into the storm. Snow stood, immovable and silent, the long line of his back (all Bella could see), pulled taut and tense. She knew what he was doing; listening, watching, making sure they really left. Making sure there weren't more.

She'd seen Sam Uley do the same, many times before.

After a moment passed, she laid a hand over his forearm. "We should go inside," she said, loud against the storm. Branches cracked and fell, flying across the yard. Half the privacy fence had been torn away, and the porch rail was in pieces. "It looks like it's getting worse outside."

He turned then, looking down at her with familiar, whiskey-brown eyes, and Bella nearly choked on her own breath. He was beautiful in every sense of the word, the kind that made women swoon, and men uncomfortable. Bella had seen an unending line of stunning people, from vampires to werewolves, to humans but he was just...

Beautiful. It had been a long time since she'd thought that of anyone.

She barely had time to grab her bag before he was scooping her up against his chest. He carried her across the yard like a bride, shielding her from the flying debris.

The house was strangely silent, thick walls muting the harsh storm better than the shed had. As Bella pulled the door closed behind them, Snow stood in the kitchen looking oddly huge beside her tiny counter. He was bigger than any Quileute wolf she'd come to know, not just in size but in presence. Every line in his body screamed power and strength. His hair was a wild, matted mess, and he held himself in a way that screamed feral.

But Bella wasn't afraid of him.

It was his eyes, slanted and bright, that kept her fear at bay. They were familiar, if the rest was not. His had a jaw sharp enough to cut yourself on, a nose narrow and straight, but his eyes still held their almond shape, just as they had when he'd been a wolf. His mouth was pulled into a scowl, but that too was nothing new.

Sourwolf.

Perhaps most curiously though was that he looked far older than the Quileute wolves. Twenty-five, if he was a day. And not like Jacob had, when he'd only been sixteen with the body of a man of twenty-five. Snow didn't just look older, he held himself in a way that screamed his years. There was no youthful lack of confidence or insecurity. He stood like a man who had conquered the world.

Although, if he was twenty-five, that answered one question. He wasn't from La Push.

Bella would have remembered that face.

"What..." She began, swallowing thickly as new questions, new mysteries formed in her mind . "What's your name?" Because he could tell her now. He could tell her so much. All the answers she'd desperately craved, he could tell her.

He opened his mouth, but only a disgruntled growl escaped. Frustrated, he clenched his jaw and shook his head, eyes skating over the kitchen counter, and settling on the pen and legal pad she kept by the phone.

Swiftly, but with shaking hands, he scrawled out the word;

Joshua.

"Joshua," Bella said, and the world felt strange in his mouth. He didn't look like a Joshua. "Joshua what?"

Joshua shook his head, mouth growing more pinched. She watched as his hands clenched around the pen, as he continued to write.

Don't remember.

Bella wasn't sure if that was normal, but she felt like she needed to reassure him anyway. "Thats okay. It'll come back to you. What do you remember? Do you remember when you phased? Where you came from?"

Winter, he wrote quickly, underlining the word with a firm hand. Snow.

Bella hesitated, but in the end, she couldn't help but ask. "What year?"

Furrowing his brow, Joshua frowned before writing Don't know across the yellow paper.

"Thats okay," Bella assured him once again. " It's 2010 now, so my best guess is 2006 or seven.."

At that, Joshua blanched. His eyes went wide, mouth falling open in surprise. He looked...panicked, pen falling from his hand. He scrambles to grab it,

Thats wrong.

"It's...it's not. It's May 14th, 2010." She paused, swallowing hard. "The papers you brought me went back about three years."

He paused, hand hovering over the paper as his mouth grew pinched, and his eyes narrowed. Where am I?

Bella hugged him.

Hug was probably the wrong word. She flung herself at him with all the force a one-hundred and fourteen pound young woman could produce. He barely managed to catch her, as she barreled into him, wrapping her limbs around his sturdy body. The effect was not unlike climbing a tree.

Joshua sat down when Bella showed no sign of disengaging. She snuffled into the side of his neck, just as he had done with his snout so many times. "You're in Alaska. I am so sorry," she cried, like it was her fault he'd been alone. It was absurd, ridiculous; a lot of things were Bella's fault, but this was hardly one of them. But still...it hurt.

He held her awkwardly, hands foreign and new to him after so long with paws. They felt heavy against her skin, long calloused fingers spanning across the small of her back, thumbs brushing over her ribs. The warmth leached at the achey pain there, and Bella shuddered.

"You'll never be alone again, okay?" She promised, pulling back just enough to remember he was mother-naked. Flushing hotly, she pulled away, not missing the way his hands clench and clutch before letting her go. "Come on, lets get you cleaned up. We have a long drive ahead of us."

Because Bella knew what she had to do. She'd known since Tanya warned them, since Joshua opened his mouth, but didn't speak. She had spent five years telling herself she'd never go back, and it had all been true, until tonight. But...Bella promised him help, and there was only one place she'll find it.

La Push.

TBC


	6. Dear Readers

Hello darlings,

Firstly I'd like to apologize that this isn't an update. Feel free to boo and throw rotten food at your convenience. This is a letter written as a courtesy to all my faithful readers and reviewers. You guys are an amazing bunch. You've cheerleaded me into something I've never really experienced before: pride. It's a humbled pride: I would have never continued to write without the constant support of a very amazing group of people; you, my readers.

I'm writing this letter to tell you that I am taking a hiatus from fanfiction. Three months, most likely. I will be back; I've never left a story unfinished, and all of you who know me, know this to be true. My two current ongoing fics, as well as my previously postponed fic, will have endings. And I daresay, I have a few other fics in the works, as well. No, I'm certainly not done.

But, until then, I am embarking on a new and frankly terrifying journey. Something I've been toying with, something I've mentioned. Something I've yet to really take seriously.

I'm writing a book.

I know. I know. Every Mary-Sue and her mother says the same thing. And many a fanfic writer, as well. Not that we'll name names.

I'm one of them, I guess. I'm writing a book. I've got ideas, I've got words, I've got a whole brilliant world inside my head, and now I want to get that onto paper.

And I'd have never even considered it, without you dear readers.

So, this letter is my apology, and my thank you. It's not a good bye. I won't suddenly vanish from the fandom. You people are too good to me. Because let's face it, the instant-gratification of fanfic is a lure to great for me. I enjoy writing it, too much to give it up. In fact, the absolute ego-stroking that is writing fanfiction has probably lead me to a false sense of security, and if I should finish this book, I no doubt will be eaten alive by criticism (you all know how terrible I am at taking bad criticism, I don't deny it, I'm a whiny baby). But I find that it's worth it, to put myself out there. And that's all because of you guys.

So thank you, and I shall see you in September!

-Lyndsey


End file.
